


won't give up the fight

by Flight_at_Midnight



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Fullmetal Alchemist Secret Santa 2020, riza hawkeye fights the patriarchy, set pre-FMA:B, team mustang shenangians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flight_at_Midnight/pseuds/Flight_at_Midnight
Summary: The men of Team Mustang go to a sparring club for Havoc’s birthday. Despite the club being men only, Roy can’t help but think the reigning champion fights an awful lot like a certain Lieutenant of his…
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 20
Kudos: 65
Collections: FMA Secret Santa 2020





	won't give up the fight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xoxoteddybearxd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xoxoteddybearxd/gifts).



> Written for Xoxoteddybearxd as part of FMA Secret Santa 2020! I hope you enjoy :,) Title taken from "Broken Together" by Casting Crowns.

If there was one thing in this world Roy feared more than a pissed off Hawkeye, it was a Hawkeye who was pissed off at him.

“Sir, with all due respect,” Hawkeye said, her posture making it clear that she believed no such respect was due to him at all, “going to a men-only sparring club for Havoc’s birthday is rather sexist considering it excludes the only female member of our unit.”

In all honesty, Roy agreed with Hawkeye, notwithstanding the fact that he would’ve loved to spend time with her outside of work. But unfortunately it was Havoc’s birthday, and the man was resolute in his plans. 

“Sorry Lieutenant,” Roy shrugged, leaning back in his desk chair in an effort to distance himself from the rays of ire Hawkeye was directing his way. “I tried, but Havoc’s mind is made up.”

Hawkeye acknowledged him a sharp nod. “Understood, Sir.” She returned to her desk, running her fingers through her shortly cropped hair—a subconscious tic, Roy had learned far too quickly, that Hawkeye did when she was annoyed.

“Sorry Hawkeye,” Havoc piped up from his seat, waving his pen around. “But we could go to a burlesque club instead if you really want to be included.”

“And watch all the dancers flock to the Colonel instead of you?” Hawkeye smiled at the dismayed comprehension dawning on Havoc’s face. “Fine by me.”

“Never mind,” Havoc muttered as Breda and Falman laughed. Roy smirked at Havoc, which only served to annoy him further. 

“But that’s not the reason why we’re going to a sparring club instead anyway,” Havoc huffed. “The reigning champ usually spars at the club on Friday nights, and I really wanna see him in action.”

His Lieutenant rolled her eyes. “I understand _why_ you want to go, but I don’t get why women must be excluded.”

“Easy,” Havoc replied, smirking at Hawkeye. “Women couldn’t handle it.” Hawkeye shot him a glare icier than the steps of Fort Briggs. 

Havoc shrunk in his seat as the other men laughed at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said, holding his hands up in defense. “You know you’d kick all our asses.”

Breda and Falman nodded their heads in solemn agreement. A tiny smile played at Hawkeye’s lips, but Roy noticed with a small pang of guilt that she was still threading her fingers through her cropped hair.

-

“Here,” Havoc held three masks out to Falman, Breda, and Roy as they approached a warehouse located in one of the seedier districts of East City. “Take one.”

“Why do we need masks?” Falman asked, grabbing a black mask that covered his face from forehead to cheekbone. Roy chose a matching red mask and stretched its elastic to fit snugly around his head.

“To hide your identity. This way, if you humiliate someone in a match, they can’t try to get revenge on you outside the ring,” Havoc explained, donning his own green mask that only seemed to accentuate his trademark sandy hair. “Alright, let’s go. If Eli’s here tonight, I don’t want to miss him.”

Breda adjusted his mask over his face as they walked toward the warehouse door. “Is this the undefeated champ you were talking about?”

“Yeah,” Havoc replied, adding an extra bounce to his gait. He puffed his chest out. “I’m gonna break his winning streak.”

“Not if it’s your body that breaks first,” Breda murmured so only Roy could hear him. Roy stifled a laugh, and not for the first time that night he wished Hawkeye were there to laugh at Havoc with him.

They walked through the warehouse doors, nodding to the bouncer standing guard outside. Inside, crowds of masked men congregated around the three sparring rings that sat slightly elevated above the cement floor. The largest throng stood around the ring in the middle of the floor.

As they approached the middle ring, Roy understood why. Two men, barefoot and hands wrapped in cloth, were locked in fast-paced combat. Despite being the smaller of the two, the blonde man clearly had the upper hand. He weaved around the ring, dodging his opponent’s blows so swiftly that his baggy shirt floated around him. 

Roy watched in awe as the blonde went in for the kill, taking advantage of his opponent’s erratic punch to grab his arm and use the momentum to throw him to the ground. The crowd roared as the blonde pinned the prone man.

“Another match without Eli taking so much as a scrape,” a man standing behind Roy said. “No wonder he hides behind a full face mask, I’d be pissed if such a short dude took me down so easily.”

“So that’s Eli,” Havoc said, his eyes shining. “I’m gonna go put my name in for a match with him.” He bounded away toward an official-looking man with a clipboard.

Breda shook his head. “Who wants to bet on how quickly he’ll lose? I say less than three minutes and he’s toast.” 

“Less than five,” Falman countered, handing Breda a 500 cenz note. 

Roy bet on less than two minutes and passed Breda his money. Eli’s fighting style was uncannily similar to Hawkeye’s—the effortless grace in evading blows, using their opponent’s movements against them, the brutal efficiency—and Havoc had yet to last more than a few minutes against her.

Havoc stood next in line as Eli effortlessly took down another challenger, this one more than twice his size. He gave them a thumbs up, goofy grin plastered to his face.

Breda smiled and sent a thumbs up back. “Poor delusional bastard,” he laughed as soon as Havoc turned back to the ring.

Falman nodded. “Nothing like a solid ass-kicking to ring in your mid-twenties.”

Havoc stepped into the ring. He flexed his arms to a jeering crowd while Eli stood stoic, save for his fingers running through the nape of his cropped hair.

Roy started at the familiar gesture. As Havoc squared up against Eli, Roy’s eyes flitted over the man’s form. Now that he thought about it, the height, the posture, the haircut all screamed _Hawkeye_ —and Roy of all people would know, given the inordinate amount of time he’s spent neglecting work to stare at his adjutant.

He blinked and Havoc was on the ground, pinned by this so-called Eli. 

“Really Havoc?” Breda yelled in disbelief over the din of the crowd as he handed Roy the anted cenz. “Ten more seconds and I woulda won.” 

Havoc grinned sheepishly as he stood up, looking ruffled but not much worse for wear. “It’s not my fault!” he yelled to Breda as he stepped out of the ring. “You made me do that extra shot at the bar before coming here.” 

As Roy stared at Eli, still standing strong in the ring, he wavered. On one hand, he could just wait until Monday to subtly confront Hawkeye about his suspicions. On the other, Roy has never been a sensible man, especially when it came to his Lieutenant. 

“I’m gonna try too,” he announced, making his mind up. Roy moved toward the ring and clapped Havoc on the shoulder as he passed him. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Havoc whooped as he rubbed his backside. “Avenge my sore ass.” 

After paying the entry fee to the clipboard man, Roy watched Eli as he waited his turn. Up close, he noticed even more similarities to his Lieutenant—a freckle in the crook of their right elbow, the shine of their eyes as they anticipated their opponent’s next move. And Eli’s baggy shirt hung over his frame, hiding his form even as he whirled around the ring.

Roy stepped into the ring and Eli’s eyes widened at him, his fingers running through his hair once more. As he approached, Roy looked into his opponent’s sherry eyes, alight with mischief, and knew for certain he’d caught his Lieutenant.

“I’ve been watching you all night like a hawk,” Roy drawled, squaring up to Hawkeye. He lowered his voice, so no one else could hear. “And I must say, you remind me of someone very dear to me.”

The bell rang. Roy took advantage of Hawkeye’s momentary surprise to jab at her, but she recovered quickly and dodged with ease. 

Having sparred with Hawkeye since she was his master’s spitfire daughter, Roy knew enough of her tricks and quirks to hold his own against her in the ring. He held back a laugh as they exchanged blows and wove around each other, remembering all those times they wore each other out in the barn behind the Hawkeye manor, the pure glee on Hawkeye’s face the first time she knocked him on his ass.

But just like back then, Roy underestimated how much his Lieutenant had been practicing as of late. She swiped out at his leg, knocking him off his balance. She lunged forward, pinning him down with one knee on his left arm and her elbow on his right. Her body pressed into his chest.

Her masked face hovered over his, the familiar glee in her eyes shining through. “I see you haven’t gotten any better, Sir, but nice try,” Hawkeye whispered. 

With that, she stood up, nodded to the cheering crowd, and left the ring.

-

“How’d your birthday plans go, Havoc?” Hawkeye asked, bright and early the following Monday morning.

Havoc settled himself tenderly into his chair. “Peachy,” he winced. 

“Me and Breda both lost 500 cenz because of him,” Falman grumbled. “The Colonel bet that Havoc wouldn’t last more than two minutes against the reigning champ.”

“Yeah, for some reason we had a little more faith in Havoc than the Colonel did. Won’t be making that mistake again,” Breda added, scowling at Havoc. 

As Havoc argued with Breda ( _“It was cold in there! You know I don’t fight well in the cold”_ ), Hawkeye glanced down at her paperwork, but Roy caught the wide grin that spread across her face.

Roy cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, I believe we have a meeting with General Hakuro in a few minutes. Shall we get going?”

Hawkeye looked up, face schooled into a neutral expression once again. “Of course, Sir.”

Roy waited until the halls were empty on their walk to Hakuro’s office to broach the subject. “That reigning champ did quite the number on me too,” he said nonchalantly, glancing at Hawkeye out of the corner of his eyes. “Really quite ruthless.”

His Lieutenant smiled again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sir. I heard he gives opponents what they deserve for excluding women so needlessly.” She paused, taking in Roy’s laughter before continuing. “And that it’s good practice for if he needs to protect those very dear to him.”

Roy nearly faltered in his footsteps. “Is that so?” he asked, grinning at Hawkeye. She flushed but didn’t reply. “Well,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind practicing with Eli, just the two of us some time.”

She nodded. “I think he would enjoy that. Your sparring form is quite tragic, Colonel.”


End file.
